Silent Hill: Retreat
by ThatAmateur
Summary: Joe Patterson had read the letter. A faded brown piece of parchment, leading him to face his own demons. The return address simply stated Silent Hill. A ghost town, in it's own right. Joe wanted to know, he HAD to know, where it came from, and who had sent it. No matter the cost, he would find the answer, he always did...


The fog was dismal, lifeless, and oppressive. A Seattle Spring no man would wish on another. He stood on the cracked concrete road, with faded yellow traffic lines running off into the distance, fading away into the fog. He was searching for something, for someone.

His walk was deliberate, the walk of a soldier. Staunch, collected, yet not fully there. As if he was only following the cadence of a different drummer. The faded brown winter coat he wore gathered dew from the compromised surroundings, leaving a light glisten to his mobile figure.

A letter, faded and browned had arrived only days prior. He had read it a hundred times, the paper that he now held in his breast pocket.

"I need your help. Come and get me, sir." The final line had run through his head incessantly. No name, only a return address.

Silent Hill

Four stops along the way, hoping for any guidance, Joe Patterson had reached the decrepit sign denoting the town of Silent Hill, population 127. It had to have been decades, as the sign was near falling. The classical wood sign had seen better years, as had most of the town, Joe considered.

One station attendant had asked him if he was one of "those people." The attendant had seemed standoffish as Joe asked who "they" were, insisting he pay for his gas and continue on down the road. Something was wrong here, he just couldn't place it.

After the sign, his car had stalled. Checking the engine, everything seemed fine. A battery with full charge, a full tank of gas, and no leaks to speak of, the stall should not have happened. It didn't matter anymore though, he was already here, and he had to find what he was looking for.

"Hello?" Joe Patterson's voice did not bounce, as the question was stifled by the cool fog engulfing the ghost town. He had his suspicions about the letter, about the location. Maybe it was all a farce, a wild goose chase to waste the better part of a week, but it seemed unlikely.

Joe walked along the cracked street, the fog rolling back enough for him to see sidewalks on either flank, with storefronts slowly materializing. A dream was the best description of it. The faded, blackened husks of storefront now lined the sides of the street as he continued down. Signs depicting 10 cent soda pop and a sale on tomatoes seemed as if they had stepped out of a 1940s backdrop.

He walked carefully now, not wanting to disturb the silence of the area with his footfalls. Not a bird chirped, not a rat scurried, only the light touch of a single pair of boots on concrete surface.

He walked a block of the deserted city scape, with no building larger than two stories, he could only imagine it being any small town. As he came up to the intersection, he hesitated. Through the fog, he could see a figure. A man, no less than fifty feet from him, stood staring off away down the street.

"Hello?" Joe yelled. "Hey!" The figure perked at the sound, looking in his direction.

"Sir? Is that you?" A familiar voice broke his own personal silence. The figure began to walk towards him, shaggy brown hair and a young face materializing as he neared.

"Wilson, what are you doing here?" Joe asked as he neared the figure.

The man looked around as if searching for someone. "Come on LT, you know what I'm doing. You had to have gotten his message." Wilson pulled a faded brown letter from the back of his jean pocket, waving it about in a lackadaisical motion toward Joe.

"I got "A" letter. Did you send it, Wilson?" Joe asked.

"Look sir," Wilson said, still looking left to right, at anything but Joe. "We all got it, I guess it's just you and me that cared to help."

"Wilson," Joe reached and grabbed the man's shoulder. "What are you doing out here? What is this letter, and what do you keep looking around for?"

Wilson jumped back quickly at the touch, moving his hands into a fighting stance.

"Look sir, you might not care, but I have to find him. He didn't leave us, we can't leave him. Not when he needs us!" Wilson began backing further away.

"Who, soldier?! Who can't we leave?!" Joe was yelling now, taking a step towards Wilson as he stepped back further. As he neared, a single ping rang through the town. The ear splitting noise snapped through the streets, fading into the distance. Joe looked around, spying an emergency alert system on one of the building corners, the simple siren should have made a much longer whine than the simple ping.

The ping resonated with Wilson, as he stepped back hurriedly, down the street.

"I have to go, sir. I'll find him and get him back, safe and sound!" Wilson yelled as he began to jog into the fog that thickened around.

"Wilson! Get back here! Where are you going?!" Joe tried to follow, but only a hundred feet away he slowed and listened, as his footfalls were the only noise left in the town, again.


End file.
